Protecting Her Son. Joan Kilby

was tempted to play the friendship card and ask to stay with Jackson. But he’d been trained to follow orders, to put on his soldier face and say yes, boss. Still, he couldn’t resist a dig. “So this is my reward for being Mr. Nice Guy? Thanks, mate.”

      John glanced around to make sure they weren’t being overheard. No one was paying attention. “I also want you to keep an eye on her. This is strictly off the record. I know I can trust you to be discreet.”

      Riley considered that. John trusted him with extra responsibility—good. But having to watch another cop for wrong-doing? Bad. Who wanted a partner who wasn’t straight up? “Are you afraid that whatever she did, she’ll do again?”

      “I’m not going to prejudge her. But I have the integrity of this station to consider. My attitude is welcoming but cautious.”

      “What’s the deal with her anyway? What kind of wrong turn did she take?” Riley didn’t have a lot of time for people who screwed up professionally. In the army, if you screwed up, people could die.

      “I wasn’t given the details. She doesn’t talk about her past. She’s a single mum with a young son who wants to start fresh. We’re going to give her a fair go. You probably won’t be with her for long. She applied for detective and sat the exams at her last station. Most likely she’ll get the promotion and be out of your hair in a few weeks. Okay?”

      “Who’s in charge, her or me?” Going from leading a platoon to being a beat cop meant Riley had taken a step down, career-wise. For the moment he was okay with that but he liked to know where he stood.

      “She’s got years more experience. But you’ve been with the department longer.” John mulled it over. “Let’s just say you’re equal partners.”

      “Suits me.”

      Riley passed young rookie Simon Peterson seated at a computer laboriously typing out a report, and gave him a commiserating grin. The endless paperwork of police work was annoying. But the Summerside force was a good place—too small for corruption to flourish the way it did in some of the big city stations. Riley felt at home here. And he liked working with a small team of dedicated people who believed in what they were doing.

      Which begged the question, how was he going to believe in what he was doing partnered with a cop who might not be trustworthy? He and this woman were supposed to be equal and yet he was being asked to keep an eye on her. How did he do that and still develop the bond of trust he needed to do his job?

      The more he thought about it, the more distasteful he found his situation. He didn’t blame John, who was only trying to do what was best for the station. No, it was Paula Drummond who had gotten herself in trouble. There was no smoke without a fire, as the saying went. And now he had to compromise his integrity for her.

      Inside John’s office, a woman in uniform stood with her back to them, gazing through the partially open blinds at the main street of the village. She was tall and athletic-looking with her blonde hair pinned tightly back. Her stance appeared casual but for the rigid set of her shoulders and her white-knuckled grip on the window ledge.

      Outside, the morning rush hour was in full swing. Riley guessed there must be, oh, four or five cars backed up at the town’s only set of traffic lights. It was a typical morning in late summer—shoppers going about their business, newly-liberated mums having coffee in the sidewalk cafés, seniors gossiping on the wrought-iron benches beneath shady trees. Nothing Riley could see that would cause the new recruit to be so tense.

      Hearing their footsteps she turned. She had blue eyes with enough crinkle at the corners to suggest she’d seen everything yet still found humor in life, an assertive nose and full lips lightly glossed. Riley schooled himself not to react. Delinsky was right. She was hot. Put a dress on her, let her hair down, and she’d be right…kissable. Not that he’d ever get busy with a coworker. He happened to agree with the unspoken rule that cops didn’t screw their partners—in any sense of the word.

      John made the introductions. A phone call interrupted and he excused himself to take it. His murmured conversation faded into the background.

      Riley nodded to Paula, extending his hand. “G’day.”

      Her gaze took in the rank on his uniform. “A rookie. Excellent.” Not, her blue eyes added silently. Her firm grasp brought a jolt of awareness, a primal zing of flesh on flesh he wasn’t expecting.

      “An ex-detective,” he replied with subtle emphasis. He squeezed hard, feeling the softness of the skin on the backs of her fingers. “I’m sure you can teach me a lot.”

      Riley had never gotten into a pissing contest with a woman before, especially not a woman this attractive. It kind of threw him. Those eyes that had his stomach in free fall contrasted oddly with a bone-crushing handshake. They were still eyeing each other warily when John finished his call.

      “All acquainted?” John walked around his desk and headed for the door. “Let’s introduce Paula to the gang.”

      “After you.” Riley gestured to Paula. Despite his good intentions his gaze dropped to the trim round butt encased in snug navy trousers. Again, Delinsky was right. She had a great ass.

      Eyes front, solider. Paula Drummond would probably pull out her gun and shoot him if he made a pass.

      John summoned Delinsky, Jackson, Crucek and Grant who were hanging around the coffee machine, waiting to go out on patrol. The guys checked her out covertly while they said all the nice things, like welcome and glad to have you aboard.

      “Delinsky and Grant, follow up the liquor-store break-in,” John said, moving on to the morning debrief. “Jackson and Crucek, you’re liaising with Frankston P.D. on the new drug task force. Detectives Leonard and Cadley will meet with you at ten o’clock. Drummond and Henning, you’re on traffic patrol.”

      The crew began to disperse.

      “Excuse me, boss,” Paula said. “I’ve had extensive experience in large-scale covert drug investigations.”

      “I’m aware of that, Constable,” John said evenly. “The bend on the highway after you exit the village is a good spot to set up the radar.”

      Paula’s wide mouth tightened. “I only meant, if the team wanted to make use of my expertise—”

      “Thanks, we’ll keep that in mind.” John nodded a dismissal and went to his office.

      At the counter in Dispatch, Riley signed out a patrol car. Patty picked the keys off the Peg-Board and tossed them in Riley and Paula’s general direction. Riley raised his hand to catch them. Paula snatched them out of the air.

      “So, it’s going to be like that, is it?” Riley said, teasing.

      “Like what?” She gave him a blank stare.

      Hadn’t even been aware she was taking control. Okay, he could be magnanimous. “You can drive.”

      * * *

      PAULA PROPPED AN ELBOW on the car window ledge and stared at the highway. They were parked behind a large ti tree, radar gun mounted on the dash. Nearly two hours had passed without them collaring a single speeder. During that time her partner had chatted endlessly, trying to draw her out. Normally she wouldn’t be quite so uncommunicative. After all she had to work with this guy and she couldn’t afford to put anyone off—but she couldn’t stop thinking about Nick Moresco’s phone call.

      Just to know you are there. What had he meant by that? Was he planning something? Did he know about Jamie? She hadn’t been showing when she’d given evidence at the hearing and by the time the case had gone to trial she’d given birth. But Nick had spies everywhere. It gave her shivers to think he might know where she lived, where Jamie went to school…

      “How long have you lived in Summerside?” Riley passed her the thermos of coffee they’d filled at a local café.

      “Sorry? Oh, less than a month.” She dug out her cup wedged next to her